


An unexpected love

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoption, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Marriage, Orphans, Post-Battle of Five Armies, The Shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6648772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo and his wife take in two orphaned Dwarflings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An unexpected love

_He’s an odd one, that Bilbo Baggins._

That’s what everyone had told you when you’d taken on the job of going to Bag End to help with the cleaning and do a bit of cooking while Bilbo rolled up his sleeves to set about restoring his home to its former comfort after his long absence. 

_Never been quite right since he came back from gallivanting about with those Dwarves,_ went the whispers _,_ and in some ways, they were right. _  
_

Bilbo generally shunned socializing – strange indeed in the close-knit bustle of the Shire – and seemed sometimes to share the common opinion that his travels had made him a misfit, and you had observed him in unguarded moments to stare aimlessly out of the window, his hands wandering distractedly to the pockets of his waistcoat, looking so restless and lost that it broke your heart to see it.

For all that he avoided company, you’d found Bilbo Baggins unexpectedly welcoming, a well-mannered, kindly soul who thanked you for your every effort, who made certain to keep the flowers you liked best in the house after an offhand comment about the loveliness of their scent, and when he smiled at you – and he’d begun to smile at you more each day – you found that, suddenly, all seemed right with the world.

It began with an invitation to supper, extended shyly and almost apologetically.

At that first supper, with some coaxing, he’d told you stories of his adventures, looking as though with each tale he was slowly unpacking a weighty rucksack he carried invisibly on his shoulders. He’d described the grandeur of Erebor, the otherworldly beauty of Rivendell, the quirks and foibles of each member of the brave company of Dwarves who had changed his life…and the foul stench of a trolls’ hoard, the terrors of Mirkwood, the fiery destruction of Laketown, the heartbreak of the fallen king and the two young brothers he’d been unable to save. 

You little knew what a wonder it was to Bilbo that he should feel his soul lighten at finding fascination and sympathy rather than condemnation in your eyes as you listened, but it did not escape your notice that after that day, he no longer fidgeted nervously with his waistcoat’s pockets.

Soon, it was assumed that you would stay to supper every time you came to Bag End, and after one particularly pleasant meal, when you’d sat side by side on the bench outside the front door and shared your first timid kiss amidst the glow of fireflies, Bilbo boldly declared that he would no longer require your services as a maid, but would be delighted to keep you on as the lady of the house.

The two of you were married in Bilbo’s garden in the Spring with only a few close friends in attendance… _that’s Bilbo Baggins for you,_ shrugged the Shire gossips, though no one truly wished Bilbo ill, and on the whole, even the nosiest of busybodies were pleased to see him happily settled down.

One evening in the following winter, when a chill rain had begun to fall outside and you and Bilbo were just sitting down to supper, a rare knock came at the door.

“Hob? Hob Mugwort?” Bilbo peered out in the dim light of the lantern on the porch. “What brings you out in this weather?”

“Mr. Baggins, sir, good evening…evening, Mrs. Baggins,” the Hobbit clutched his hat in his hand as he craned his neck to greet you where you stood in the doorway to the parlor. “I’m afraid you’re wanted at the Green Dragon, sir. We didn’t know who else to call for, it’s…well…you’ll see when you come,” he explained sheepishly. “ _Will_ you come?”

Bilbo seemed to hover on the edge of annoyed indecision, but at last seized his coat from the coat rack before turning to you. “I’ll be back in no time, dear,” he assured you.

“I’ll keep supper warm,” you nodded, and without further ado, Bilbo followed his companion out of the cozy house and into the wet night.

You had lost count of how many times you’d stirred the soup and glanced at the clock and strained to see anything through the rain-spattered window when the front door finally opened and the sound of shuffling feet could be heard in the hall.

“Bilbo, darling, is everything all right?” You hastened to meet him, noticing as you walked to the door that he seemed to be murmuring in a low voice, words you couldn’t make out.

“Fine, my dear,” he answered, more loudly and in an over-bright tone, “everything’s…fine.”

His last word coincided with your appearance in the entrance hall and with the widening of your eyes at the sight of the two small children he was shepherding toward the parlor.

They were two little boys, the elder surely not more than a few years old and the younger unsteadily toddling along on his stocky little legs, supported by Bilbo’s careful hand. The children were different from any young Hobbits you had ever seen, from the small braids on their heads to the sturdy boots on their feet, and you were shocked to see that the golden brown hair of the elder child extended to the beginnings of a beard on his rosy cheeks.

Your eyes met Bilbo’s and found pleading there. “Dearest, this is Callin,” he gestured to the bigger boy, “and his brother Dallin.” Here he gently patted the dark head of the little one, explaining, “they’re Dwarflings who find themselves in need of a place to stay.”

Without hesitation, you nodded reassuringly at him. “Of course,” you murmured, looking to the children with a warm smile and repeating, more firmly, “of course.”

Bilbo’s look was grateful, and he hoisted a bulging sack, adding with a bemused air, “the younger Mrs. Gardner was kind enough to send along some nappies for our smallest guest.”

You smiled, and knelt before Callin where he stood close to Bilbo looking about the room with wide, nervous eyes, your heart going out to the frightened boy. “Are you hungry?”

The Dwarfling looked quickly at Bilbo and back to you again before giving a small, silent nod.

“Come into the kitchen, then,” you encouraged, “and we’ll get you something to eat.”

Bilbo helped Callin climb up to sit on the long bench beside the table and kept an awkward hold on little Dallin in his lap while you filled mugs with milk, dished up bowls of soup, and cut thick slices of bread, buttering them generously. Though still quiet, Callin tucked into his food as though he hadn’t eaten in days, while Dallin’s mouth opened wide again and again, like an eager baby bird, for the spoonfuls of broth and sips of milk Bilbo fed him. Bilbo’s inexperienced arms gradually relaxed, cuddling the child more comfortably, and you met his glance over the children’s heads to exchange an amused smile at this second instance of unexpected Dwarven guests in Bag End.

Several helpings of soup and the remainder of the loaf later, Dallin had fallen contentedly asleep on Bilbo’s lap and Callin was yawning widely, and you led them both to the spare bedroom, where Bilbo lay the littlest lad carefully on one pillow and tucked the quilts snugly about him while you helped Callin off with his coat and boots and let him crawl in beside his brother.

Gently, you brushed a stray lock of hair away from the little boy’s forehead. “Everything’s going to be all right,” you murmured soothingly. “We’ll be here if you need anything at all.”

Another small nod, though his eyes were sad, and he snuggled close to Dallin as Bilbo blew out the candle and the two of you left them to sleep.

In the hallway, Bilbo sighed, and leaned against the wall, his mouth twisting with a rueful smile as he awaited your questions. 

“Where are their parents?”

He shook his head regretfully. “There was a wagon, destroyed, not far from where they were found hiding in bushes near the East Road. Trolls, from the look of it. All they could get out of Callin was that he was told to stay put and look after his brother.”

“Oh, _Bilbo_ ,” your heart sank with the sickening realization of the fate of the boys’ family. “How horrible.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, I really should have consulted you before taking them in, but…when I saw them there, alone and frightened and reminding me–” He broke off, clearing his throat, and a rapid wriggle of his nose betrayed his struggle to regain his composure.

Understanding dawned on you with heartrending clarity. “Reminding you of Fili and Kili,” you said softly, and he only nodded, looking with misty eyes away down the hall.

You moved to put your arms around him, and his hands loosened their absentminded grip on his braces, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist while he pressed his cheek to your own with a steadying sigh.

“You’re a kind soul, Bilbo Baggins, and I love you for it,” you whispered in his ear, planting a kiss on his cheek and reaching to take his face in your hands. “ _Of course_ they can stay. We’ve got more than enough room and food and love to go round.”

Bilbo’s face relaxed into a genuine smile, and he squeezed you close. “I do believe I am the luckiest Hobbit in all of Middle Earth to have married you, Mrs. Baggins.”

A muted chuckle escaped your lips. “Well,” you mused, “we have talked of starting a family…perhaps this is how it was meant to come about.”

“Perhaps it is,” he admitted, with a small grin. Taking your hand in his, he kissed it and led you away from the quiet room where the children slept. “Let’s go to bed, dearest. I suspect the little ones may be up early.”

Bilbo’s prediction was truer than he knew, for it was still the small hours of the night when a distressed cry broke the silence of the dark Hobbit-hole. Stumbling with the disorientation of your sudden rousing, you both rushed to throw on your dressing gowns and run to the spare bedroom, where Dallin lay wailing and Callin sat up in the bed, looking to you with panicked eyes as he tried desperately to quiet his brother.

“It’s all right,” you told him as you scooped up the crying little one, who buried his face in the collar of your dressing gown, wetting it with tears and his dribbling mouth. “Shhhhhh,” you soothed, rocking Dallin in your arms with a swaying motion, rubbing his back in small circles while Bilbo gave a reassuring pat to Callin’s shoulder.

“Bilbo, the diapers,” you murmured, and Bilbo hurried to fetch the sack from the hallway where he’d left it. 

After a swift, if inexpert, change, Dallin was back in your comforting embrace, where his crying gradually quieted, and he succumbed again to sleep with a last, broken sigh into your neck, his little body going heavy in your arms. 

You sat down beside Callin with a reassuring smile. “See? All better.” 

He looked relieved, his wide eyes examining your face closely in the dim light from the lantern in the hall, and you reached to run your hand tenderly over his braided hair.

Bilbo leaned down, resting his hands on his knees, to draw the child’s gaze to his own. “You’ve been a very brave boy, Callin,” he said quietly, firmly. “You’ve looked after your little brother as well as anyone could. But we’re going to look after you both now…and I promise you, you will always be safe here.” He looked searchingly into Callin’s face with an encouraging nod. “Hmm?”

The Dwarfling looked from you to Bilbo and back to you again, and to your surprise, he slowly sidled close to you, resting his head tentatively against your shoulder, and a tear trickled to your cheek as your eyes met Bilbo’s and found him looking at the three of you with a peace in his countenance that you’d never seen before.

You smiled at him, acknowledging your own full heart.

For the second time in Bilbo’s life, he was embarking on a journey, when and where he’d least expected it, and valleys and peaks alike awaited on the road ahead. On the same morning that Dallin would fling his untouched bowl of porridge to the floor in a fit of fussiness and nap restlessly in your arms with tears clinging to his dark eyelashes, you would hear Callin laugh for the first time, watching the pair of waddling ducks in the garden gobbling up snails among the tomato plants…and so it would go.

And one day, years from now, these little boys would be grown Dwarves who would kiss you goodbye with a last promise to be careful and set off to see Erebor, their heads filled with the tales Bilbo had told them of his exploits, and find themselves face to face with those remaining, storied members of Thorin Oakenshield’s company who would welcome them as honored guests on account of the Hobbit they had come to call Papa. 

For now, though, in the quiet darkness of Bag End’s spare bedroom, only one thing was certain: you and Bilbo would love and care for each other and for these lost little ones with all the strength you possessed. 

The greatest adventure – your family – had begun.


End file.
